


Of Mice and Men

by the_random_writer



Category: Cut & Run - Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux
Genre: Bathtubs, Cats, M/M, Mice, Phobias, Snark, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 04:45:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13674537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_random_writer/pseuds/the_random_writer
Summary: Zane just wants to have a relaxing bath, but Cricket has other ideas.A spiritual sequel of sorts toFeline Frolics. Refers to the events ofSlipping AwayandStripped and Stranded, but can be read standalone.





	Of Mice and Men

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gretchen_Zeller_Barnes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gretchen_Zeller_Barnes/gifts).



Third time's a charm, the old saying went. Or, three strikes and you're all out, if you were more pessimistically inclined.

Whatever way you came at a problem, Zane firmly believed in not giving up until you'd made three solid attempts. Which was why, after almost four months of avoiding the bloody thing like the plague (thanks to the terrible endings of his last two attempts) he'd decided to end a stressful day by going for a relaxing bath. Pleasantly warm instead of hot and no massage oil in sight—just him, his 'Riding Mower' Yankee Candle, a facecloth and some soothing tunes.

As he floated, immersed in the water, the facecloth folded across his eyes, the cause of his undoing arrived. She was smooth on her feet—he would give her that—but the light gust of air gave her away.

He pulled the facecloth away from his face, and there was Cricket, sitting on the side of the bath, her bushy tail wrapped around her feet. She meeped at him and started to purr.

Zane sighed and smiled at his furry guest. When Ty was around, he pretended to grumble about the cats, but mostly because it got his husband hot under the collar, and getting his husband hot under the collar made for a _very_ interesting night.

He wasn't quite as fond of the kitties as Ty, but that didn't mean he didn't like them. They filled the house with laughter and fun, especially Cricket, who, just like her beloved owner, had a personality that could best be described as 'unique'. Unlike her chilled out brother, who preferred to be left to do his own thing, she liked to follow her human around the house, usually at thunderous speed. She was really Ty's fluffy, razor-clawed shadow—Grady Mark II, with a sandpaper tongue and a tail.

But Ty wasn't at home right now—he'd gone out to collect a parcel from the UPS depot in Morrell Park. When deprived of her main source of attention, Cricket's solution was to latch onto that source's husband instead.

Hence, her arrival at the bath.

Zane wiggled his toe just under the water—enough to make a small, splashing sound. With eager eyes, Cricket jerked her head around, meeped again, reached down to bat his toe with her paw, then jerked it back when it contacted water.

He grinned as she gave him a regal glare. "Not a big fan of water, huh? That's okay. You _are_ a cat."

She snorted, grumfed and turned away.

He flicked a couple of droplets at her. "Don't you grumf at me, young lady. I might only be your second human, but I'm also the one that usually cleans out your tray." Mostly because he had a more sensitive sense of smell than his spouse, so the scent of used litter got to him first, but that wasn't the point. "So unless you really love the feeling of standing up to your ankles in shit when you go to the john, shut the hell up, okay?"

Now she yawned and scanned the room.

"Oh, so I'm boring you now? Sucks to be you, I guess." He flicked another droplet at her. "To be honest, I'm not always thrilled with you, either. _Especially_ when you lick my face at four o'clock in the goddamn morning. What the hell is that all about? Ty thinks you're trying to wake me up a for a cuddle, but _I_ think you're checking to see if I'm dead."

And _that_ was where his evening went wrong. In hindsight, calling her boring was tempting fate—he really had nobody else to blame.

She yawned again, then stretched out to put her front paws on his knee.

Zane froze completely still. He was lying in almost two feet of water, with one of his husband's cats now stretched between his knee and the side of the bath. One tiny slip, and the cat would go in. But he knew from prior experience that a cat heading into water never meekly accepted its fate. Claws would come out, looking for something to slow the fall, and right now, the only something in question was him.

If this went bad, the evening would end in blood and tears, not to mention a soaking wet cat. The last thing he needed was for Ty to come home to a damp and disgruntled pet, and accuse him of feline abuse…

Zane clenched his hands into fists. He'd only wanted to have a bath, ideally, without blood, screaming or broken bones. Was that _really_ too much to ask?

In one fluid movement, Cricket drew her rear paws onto his right knee, then extended her front paws onto his left.

Great. So, now, instead of hanging between him and the bath over a foot of water, she was hanging between his knees, right over his bald-headed yoghurt slinger.

Why did he suddenly want to faint?

If he could sit up slightly, he could slip his hands under her ribs, and assuming she didn't squirm too much, throw her safely onto the floor.

Before he could move, Cricket solved the problem herself by stepping forward again to sit on the other side of the bath.

Zane heaved a sigh of relief. The bath was narrower at that side, so he wasn't out of danger yet, but his family jewels were no longer at risk of being turned into beef and testicle vermicelli. "I don't mean to be rude," he murmured at her, "but could you _please_ fuck off? I mean, I love you and all, but I'm having a bath. Gimme another twenty minutes, and I promise I'll cuddle you when I'm done, okay?"

She kneaded the rim of the bath with her paws, making a quiet tapping sound. She might have a brain the size of a pea, and the intellectual profundity of a lightly tossed salad, but Zane was pretty sure she knew _exactly_ what the word 'cuddle' meant.

Cricket stood up.

Uh oh. The feline was on the move again. This time, instead of walking across his knees, she shimmied up the side of the bath to sit in the corner behind his head. She craned her neck to sniff at his ears.

"That's cute and all, but can you just _not_?" he complained, jerking his head away.

She leaned in again, but this time, instead of sniffing his ears, she started to chew on his curls.

Scowling slightly, he sat up, literally showing the feline his back. He raised his legs, swivelled round on his ass and lay back down with his head at the other end. "Yeah, how do you like _them_ apples?" he said, poking her in the chest with a toe.

She blinked and slowly swished her tail.

Crap. He wasn't a cat whisperer by any means, but tail swishing was never good. Cunning, feline plans were afoot—plans involving blood and revenge.

To his surprise, instead of attacking, she carefully walked back down the length of the bath, then, pausing briefly to let out an imperious snort, jumped off and sauntered away.

Zane heard her scurry downstairs, no doubt in search of her napping brother.

He swivelled around in the bath again, rinsed the cloth, spread it back over his face and lay back to finish his soak. The water was warm, the music was smooth, the candle smelled like a summer's day. As he relaxed, his worldly problems drifted away.

He felt another light gust of air, heralding furry Satan's return.

Zane sighed again. Without removing the facecloth, he said, "Did we or did we _not_ agree that you were gonna fuck off and leave me alone?"

She emitted a closed-mouth yowl, then something splished between his toes.

Great. Her request for attention rebuffed, she'd resorted to the centuries-old feline response—pushing things onto the floor. Or, in his case, into the bath. Not to worry. It was probably just the bar of soap.

What he heard next made his blood run absolutely, _totally_ cold—a high-pitched squeak, then the sound of scrabbling claws.

But this time, the scrabbling sound was _in the water_.

 _What the fucking fuck_ , he thought as he yanked the facecloth away. When he saw what it was, he sat up so hard he almost threw out his back.

"Jesus Christ!" he yelled.

Cricket hadn't pushed in the soap—she'd dropped in a fucking _mouse_. A very living, slightly bleeding, absolutely terrified mouse.

"You _evil_ shit!" he screeched at the cat as he lurched to his feet. "I swear to God, you and I are _officially_ done!"

Cricket sniffed, flicked her ears, yawned and quickly scampered away.

"Get back here, you devious little bitch!" Zane shouted out. "Get this fucking mouse out of my bath!"

The mouse was squeaking up a storm, no doubt terrified and in pain.

Zane grunted as his back twinged again. "You're not the only one, man," he muttered to his new rodent friend. "Not enjoying this very much myself."

How to remove a mouse from a bath—one training course he'd never received, either from the FBI or the CIA.

He glanced around, looking for something he could use as a scoop. "That'll do," he said with a nod, reaching out to grab the jug he used to rinse soap out of his hair.

He leaned down to skim the jug through the water towards the mouse. He paused for a moment, positioning it right underneath, then pulled the jug up, bringing the tiny creature with it.

Unfortunately, the jug ended up mostly full of water as well. He needed to pour out enough to ensure the mouse wouldn't drown, but without pouring the creature back into the tub.

He scanned the bathroom again. There, over on the near side of the sink—the hand mirror Ty used to check the back of his head after he clipped his hair. It had a long handle, and the mirror section was wide enough to cover the mouth of the jug.

He reached out to grab it, gently laid it over the jug then turned the container on its side to drain the excess water away. The end result was a much drier mouse—it paused for a moment to shake the water out of its fur, then started scrabbling at the side.

"Gimme a minute to dry myself off and put on some clothes, then I'll turn you loose outside, okay?" he said to the panicking beast. "Just stay out of furry Beelzebub's way. She gets her paws on you again, she's gonna drop you in something way worse than a bath."

He set the jug on the edge of the sink, taking a moment to be sure the improvised lid wouldn't fall off, rubbed himself dry as fast as he could, then gathered up and threw on his clothes.

He carried his squeaking captive downstairs, along the house to the back door. In one smooth movement, he turned the door handle, removed the restraining mirror and threw the mouse out into the night.

Right into his husband's face.

It didn't _quite_ fly into Ty's mouth, but it definitely bounced off his chin.

Ty let out an ear-splitting scream, dropped the massive box he was holding and batted his hands around his face. "Get it off me, get it off me!" he shrieked. He pulled off his coat to frantically pat down his torso as well. Once he was sure he was rodent-free, he turned to Zane and said, "You just threw a goddamn mouse in my face!"

"It was an accident!" Zane hollered back. "I was trying to throw it into the garden, I didn't know you were gonna be there!"

Ty spat and wiped his tongue with his hand.

"The fuck are you doing?" Zane asked.

"A mouse just put its foot in my mouth. I'm trying to get rid of the goddamn taste!"

"Well, how much fucking taste did you get? It's not like you bit down and tore off its foot!"

Ty retrieved his coat from the ground. "I need something clean to drink," he muttered, storming past Zane into the house.

Zane gestured at the abandoned box. "Guess I'm bringing the parcel in." He strode down the steps, picked up the package, sauntered back into the house and dropped it on the kitchen table.

At the sink, Ty filled up a glass, took a few mouthfuls of water then leaned his head back to gargle with it.

Zane rolled his eyes. "Jesus, Grady, exaggerate much? It's not like the mouse tried to crawl to the back of your throat."

Ty spat out his water and glared. "You keep throwing live mice in my face, you know what else won't be seeing the back of my throat?"

"My dick?" Zane guessed.

"Fuck you, Lone Star."

"Later, doll. And only if you promise to squeak."

Ty huffed and went to check out the box. "Why the fuck are you even catching the mice?"

"Who the hell else is gonna deal with them, _you_?"

With perfect timing, Cricket jumped up onto the chair, with a look on her face like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

Zane narrowed his eyes at the wily pet—she swished her tail and narrowed her wily eyes right back.

Ty reached out to rub the cat's head. "Just don't understand why you'd bother, when you could leave them for Cricket to deal with instead?"


End file.
